


those great whites (they have big teeth)

by circuitricardoporno



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Formula E RPF
Genre: M/M, age difference relationship, apparently I went through a stage of writing this? idk it was in my drafts, general unwholesome perviness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 16:07:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14115978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circuitricardoporno/pseuds/circuitricardoporno
Summary: Mark thinks it’s quite funny, in the end - Mitch obviously wants him to meet his boyfriend, is desperately looking for Mark’s approval





	those great whites (they have big teeth)

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh I found this in my drafts and it seems finished? But maybe it isn't. It's from the start of last year so err, forgive any glaring errors.

“Hey is it cool if Carlos stays over when I come up next week?” Mark laughs fondly at Mitch, lying beneath him like a painted masterpiece of debauchery. The younger man’s hair is slick with sweat, his chest shining with it where he’d been straining every muscle, begging and whining for Mark to make him come, less than a minute earlier. It doesn’t make him look young, exactly - his age does more than enough of that - but he’s sort of glowing, like he’s been sunbathing. And wonderfully, pornographically streaked in his own spunk. 

Mark reaches down, spreads his fingers through the slick fluid and watches Mitch writhe, ticklish but enjoying the attention. Mark's fingertips trace the shape of his abs, of where his lean ribs turn into equally contoured muscle and he still almost can't believe Mitch is real, in moments like this. 

Most of the time he's altogether  _ too _ real - a source of halfway paternal stress Mark didn't know he'd kind of enjoy. But that just makes it all the more fucked up that Mitch found his way into his bed, his slightly needy tendencies turned hot and urgent. 

In the minutes after they fuck, when Mitch is quieter and sated and a bit dreamy, seeming like the teenager he isn't anymore (thank god) and slightly lovestruck, it just seems implausible that he's into him. Mark knows he is - it was Mitch that pushed for this, that insisted Mark let him touch until he might as well touch back and Mark knows he’s not exactly bad looking but Mitch is something else. He could’ve asked him if he could burn the fucking house down next time he comes round and Mark would have nodded distractedly and murmured “sure, mate.”

“Cool.” Mitch’s smile is very toothy. Mark has a fleeting moment of thinking he should probably be warier of getting devoured before Mitch pulls him down and he’s too busy trying to turn him on enough to make him come all over himself a second time to worry about it much.

\------

Mark thinks it’s quite funny, in the end - Mitch obviously wants him to meet his boyfriend, is desperately looking for Mark’s approval. He’s a bit surprised - he’d kind of thought Mitch was dating Alex for so long that it hadn’t even occurred to him he might be screwing the Spaniard. 

Mark’s… not exactly jealous. It doesn’t seem to have put a stop on their thing and a guilty part of him is just glad Mitch seems to be into something slightly more wholesome than fucking his mentor. Carlos is clearly head-over-heels and much  _ nicer  _ than Mark had ever really hoped Mitch would look for in a boyfriend, playful and affectionate with him in a way that makes Mitch look at him  _ so  _ softly every time he thinks Mark isn’t looking. 

He can’t imagine them having sex and also can’t  _ stop  _ imagining them having sex. When he catches them cuddling in the kitchen, Carlos is curled into Mitch in a way that doesn’t make any sense at all for their height difference but somehow suggests Mitch tops, one of his hands dangerously close to groping Carlos’ undeniably nice arse, which is an intriguing thought. 

Then there’s the way they feed each other, which is desperately adorable and also kind of filthy - when Mitch pops a cherry tomato into Carlos’ mouth from his own bowl of salad, then leaves his fingers lingering on the Spaniard’s lips like he’s only just holding himself back from making him suck them. Mark knows Mitch  _ is  _ a wicked bastard but he’s never seen him really fancy anyone other than himself and as much as Mitch pushed and pushed and pushed to be allowed into Mark’s bed, he’s always felt in control of the situation, that he’s letting Mitch have things from him - he’s never seen Mitch  _ give  _ them like this. 

Carlos is endlessly polite, charming and knows how to do the washing up. It’s almost disconcerting that Mitch appears to have got his life together enough to actually be dating someone who folds tea towels. On the second day, Carlos disappears to make a phonecall and he completely succumbs to Mitch’s pleading look for approval.

“Congratulations, mate - how come you didn’t tell me?” Mitch looks bashful, blushing a bit and his gaze drags to the door Carlos just went through.

“Didn’t know what you’d think, what - what Chili would think.” Mitch is so rarely nervous that it’s almost a treat, seeing him a little wrongfooted, caught out on the cheek of suddenly dragging this secret boyfriend into his lover’s home and needing a pat on the head for it. 

“It’s good. You both seem happy - always thought it’d be Lynn you turned up to dinner with one day.” Mitch scowls, like that’s a sorer point than Mark had ever been aware of and he’s just wondering exactly how  _ much  _ of Mitch’s life he’s missed since he moved to London when Carlos wanders back in and Mitch looks so almost  _ painfully  _ lovestruck at the Spaniard that it’d be cruel to even take the piss.

Mark retreats to a safe distance, watching over the top of the sports pages as Mitch shoves Carlos against the worktop and runs his fingers through his hair, Carlos closing his eyes in pleasure. Mitch presses up against him, crowding and Carlos’ hands go to his hips, pulling the shorter man in even more. It’s hot and he’s just wondering whether he should tell them not to fuck in the kitchen because jesus christ have some hygiene standards when Mitch smoothes a hand down Carlos’ arm and rests his head against his shoulder, eyes closed. Oh -  _ oh.  _ Mark knows sometimes Mitch likes being held, that the few times they’ve been a bit kinky Mitch has wanted to be cuddled after and that he’s an enthusiastic hugger in general but this is so soft and romantic, the simple pleasure of being close with Carlos.

He sends Fernando a picture he sneakily takes out the kitchen window, them holding hands as they walk across the lawn to the cottage. Mitch is gazing at Carlos, who’s laughing at something and looking at Mitch like he wants to propose. It’s sweet, almost innocent and he tries to keep his mind off the fact they must be fucking, in fact that’s probably what they’ve headed off to do.

Fernando sends back a lot of exclamation marks, then a  _ “he did no tell me!”  _ and “ _ is cute, like mini-us”  _ which oh god, that hadn’t even occurred to Mark because Mitch and Carlos don’t really look like him and Nando but yes, of course it is. 

Mark sends back “ _ I don’t think we were ever that cute _ ” and then laughs at the photo of him and Fernando in their twenties wearing some outfits that must have been acceptable at the time he gets in response, “ _ looking nerdy isn’t cute.” _

He misses Fernando, suddenly - it’d be nice to have his own person to hold hands with, is halfway through asking him if he’s even in the UK when he gets an  _ “am coming round obvious”  _ and smiles. He tries to do anything that doesn’t involve imagining Mitch and Carlos having sex for the next forty minutes, until he hears a car pulling into the drive and goes to flop on the couch fake-casually, lets Fernando let himself in. 

Fernando is in an oversized hoodie, looking younger than he does when he’s in “I’m the king, bow to me” mode and also slightly like Mark ought to worry about whether either of their fashion sense has really moved on all that much since 2000.

“Where are they?” He doesn’t bother hiding his manifest  _ glee  _ at the situation, clearly desperate for a glimpse of this - the gossip event of the year for their sad old man lives. 

“In the cottage,” Fernando exaggeratedly gasps halfway through the process of clambering onto the sofa to join him by half-lying on him like one of the dogs. 

“You let them out of your sight? They could be fucking.” Fernando emphasises his point by grinding up against Mark, lightly. God, Mark still fancies the fuck out of him. 

“Better than doing it  _ in  _ my sight,” he laughs and grabs Nando into a kiss, suddenly really quite horny. It’s not his fault everyone’s making him think about two ludicrously hot twenty-something’s fucking each other senseless and then probably taking selfies. He wonders who tops? Mitch always seems pretty enthusiastic about taking it but Carlos doesn’t look the type to fuck him hard and tease him, keep him on the edge, the way Mark can. 

“Why not? Would be sexy.” Mark hits him with the couch cushion because  _ god,  _ Fernando, he  _ knows. _ “What? It would!”

“Let them be, they’re all innocent.” Fernando throws back his head laughing and immediately turns the snuggling into wrestling.

“Is innocent when he has your cock in his mouth?” Mark groans at him, pretends to give up the fight in the hope he can catch him off-guard in a few seconds.

“You know what I mean - they’re like lovestruck girls.” Fernando grins at him, wriggles up to kiss him passionately, murmurs that he has to see this before sticking his tongue down Mark’s throat as though  _ they’re  _ the near-teenagers.

Nando’s beard is soft, like he’s been using conditioner on it again and when he moves his legs to straddle Mark’s hips there’s a really glorious moment of intimate friction, both their tops riding up so just a sliver of skin presses together, stomach muscles warm against each other. He can’t resist slipping his hands under Fernando’s hoodie, mussing his t-shirt and pushing more of them together. 

Fernando hums approvingly, grabs at Mark’s hands and pins them back against the arm of the sofa, next to his head, letting them just grind against each other, swapping tongues in a ludicrously pubescent snog. Fernando is in a good mood, clearly and is chuckling against his mouth every time Mark tries to change the pace to something slightly more grown up than pawing each other like they’re in the backseat of a Fiat Punto.

They’re interrupted by a coughed “Whoa- sorry” from the doorway that causes Mark to throw his head back and laugh out loud.  _ Christ,  _ this is all turning into quite the comedy of awkwardness. 

He pulls Fernando close, lets him stretch out along Mark’s body so he’s almost posing on him, “Hey boys.”

Carlos has gone quite pink, although it’s just possible that’s a post-coital flush rather than pure embarrassment since he and Mitch look very freshly washed, as though they’d had to clean themselves up. Or fucked in the shower, of course. God, what a mental image. 

“We were- we were going to ask about dinner?” Mitch is a bit wide-eyed and Mark feels incredibly smug about it. Carlos has the hint of a hickey on his neck and Mitch looks far too pleased with himself, under the mild shock, for there not to have been shagging in their recent past - he can damn well get some, too.

“Carlos is good! You should cook for us.” Fernando quite shamelessly (and not especially comfortably) reclines himself on Mark, propped on one arm. 

“Or we can order in, I don’t trust Mitch with the kitchen.” He cards his fingers through Fernando’s hair just to see the boys squirm at seeing their mentors being affectionate with each other. Mitch glares at him briefly, clearly aware Mark is fucking with him but whatever, he started it, flopping onto the other settee and dragging Carlos down with him in a completely awkward imitation of Mark and Fernando.

In almost an exact mirror of Fernando, Carlos seems not at all bothered by the awkwardness of the pose, immediately half-curling himself up against Mitch’s chest, between his legs. It looks vaguely like vengeance for being manhandled onto the sofa and Mark thinks they must have quite a lot of fun fighting, in between being sappy with each other. Mitch looks tremendously pleased with himself to have Carlos on him - he’s much too short for it to not look completely ridiculous and Mark  _ nearly  _ laughs at how openly Mitch’s ego is being fed by not being the little spoon for once.

Fernando is looking at them with open interest, like he’s studying something new and technical. “Who is top?”

Mark grabs at him like he can somehow shove the words back into Fernando’s mouth because  _ jesus,  _ he’s meant to be the uncivilised Aussie but here’s fucking what-the-fuck of the century. God, horrifying. Argh. “You can’t ask them that, they’re… You can’t ask that.”

Mitch has gone  _ very  _ red and slightly tightened himself round Carlos like he’s clinging to him for comfort, suddenly more koala than ego. Carlos meanwhile looks entirely unphased by the situation, patting Mitch’s forearm as slightly patronising comfort, “Is Mitch. But sometimes different.”

Mark has to close his eyes for a second because the person he fancies most in the world is lying on him and his brain is filled with the image of Mitch pushing into Carlos while they kiss passionately. He needs a fucking drink. 

Fernando nods approvingly, “Is good to change sometimes.”

God, now he’s thinking about Carlos fucking Mitch and it’s even worse because he knows exactly what Mitch looks like when he’s being filled, how demanding he can be when he’s getting fingered and how he falls apart completely if you hit his prostate a few times at the right angle and just thrashes around and whines until he comes. He wonders if he should tell Carlos how to do that, Mitch does  _ really  _ like it, after all. 

Mitch hides his face in Carlos hoodie, completely beyond his level of embarrassment. He’s not sure if it’s Fernando being there, the horror of discovering Mark and him canoodling clearly affecting him quite badly or if Mitch is just so gone on Carlos he’s having a panic about any form of awkwardness. Carlos, a clearly outstanding boyfriend, immediately wriggles around to cuddle Mitch to himself, stroking his hair which Mitch  _ definitely  _ can’t seem to work out whether he’s enjoying or furious about. 

Mitch shakes his head slightly, gets out of Carlos’ comforting grasp and stares straight at the Spaniard for a second, some intense emotions playing out on his face - “Pizza?”

Mark tuts because  _ seriously  _ not on the diet but maybe just this once. Fernando just shakes his head though and fixes Mark with An Expression, “Not so hungry.”

Mark can kind of see why - the way Carlos has moved round so he’s lying on top of Mitch, between his legs, is not even remotely subtle. And Mitch is still halfway dying of embarrassment, made worse when he looks quizzically over to Mark and Fernando and presumably spots Alonso’s feral expression, turning a crimson Mark can’t remember ever seeing on him before. 

He decides he actually can’t stand for this, Mitch is his responsibility on any number of levels and while it’s all sort-of fine that he’s allowed his own moral collapse, him and Fernando can’t be  _ perving  _ on the youngsters for christ’s sake. “Chinese then. I’ll get the menu.”

“Are no fun.” Fernando huffs at him, refusing to move. “Anyway, is quicker on the phone.”

“That’s why I’m going to get the number, mate.” Mark gives him a shove to try to move him, Fernando’s obstinacy providing a welcome get-out from the awkwardness.

“No, on the app on the phone.” Mark’s actually quite offended to see Carlos rolling his eyes at him. What is this, some Hispanic tech conspiracy?

He’s about 80% sure that’s not even what Fernando meant but is now having Just Eat tediously explained to him as though he hasn’t driven a Formula One car so is quite familiar with high-end technology, thank you. And his phone must be around here somewhere, he was just texting Fernando.

\-----

Later that night, sliding his hands under Fernando’s t-shirt, is not quite the moment he was hoping it would be brought back up. “Are no fun earlier.”

Mark closes his eyes “I do  _ not  _ want to think about that right now, mate.”

“Mmm really? Is hot.” Fernando shoves him back onto the bed, moving almost impossibly fast to straddle him in an echo of the couch. “Would like to see you fuck Carlos, so pretty.”

“I’m not sure that’s the word you mean.” Mark’s own brain is temporarily distracted by the idea of Sainz curling into him, hair against his shoulder like with Mitch in the kitchen earlier except naked and full of his cock. Christ. 

“You never let me play with you and Mitch.” Fernando pronounces it  _ Meesh,  _ which he chooses to focus on not the fact his dick just jumped in almost nervous recognition of all the shower fantasies he’s had about the two of them, getting to tease them both and making them see who can hold out longest. Seeing Mitch blow Fernando, while Mark fucks him hard enough to make him choke, holding Mitch between them afterwards. Argh,  _ fuck.  _

“Alright, fine, yeah. It’d be hot. We can’t just go around perving on them like dirty old bastards though.” Mark tries to refocus Fernando on the act at hand by snogging him.

“Why not?” It should come as no surprise that Fernando is relentless.

“It’s just… not…” Mark gasps as Fernando undoes his belt, squeezes the bulge in his jeans fondly, “It’s not ok really, is it?”

Fernando chuckles, “Your ethics are confusing. Is ok to fuck Mitch but is not ok to fuck Carlos? Or is not ok for me to fuck Mitch? Or is not ok for Mitch to fuck Carlos?” The spaniard’s eyes go very innocently, mock-shock wide on that last question, as though he’s startled by Mark’s alleged jealousy.

Mark struggles to reply, with Fernando mouthing hotly over his dick through his boxers, “He can fuck who he likes.”

Fernando laughs softly, as Mark lifts his hips to let him get to what he wants, “Mmm but you can’t, hey?”

Fortunately, even Fernando Alonso has not worked out a way to talk with a cock in his mouth so Mark gets a few minutes of gorgeous respite, Fernando’s tongue as clever as ever at reaching that crease just below the head that feels like heaven every time he flicks it. It’s so very lovely sleeping with someone determined to be the absolute, godlike best at literally everything they ever do.

Sadly Fernando is fully capable of talking while fucking, which is amazing because he says the  _ filthiest  _ things and it pulls Mark apart entirely but he was really hoping he wouldn’t come while a two-time world champion whispered “I bet Carlos take him tonight, make him get on his hands and knees for being so shy, ask if it feels the same as when you fuck him-” and thank fuck he’s able to be loud enough to drown even Fernando out because he doesn’t need to think about Carlos fantasising about himself and Mitch ever again.

Fernando is drowsy, after, over-affectionate and cuddly in a predictably demanding way that Mark has long since given up trying to resist. “Is just as well you are a prude, could not let you leave me for Carlos.”

Ah, the insecurity of a true diva. “Mate, absolutely not.”

Fernando smiles against his chest, “Mmm, you know I only tease because it works you up? They are sweet, probably still hold hands.”

Mark interlaces their fingers, because that’s a nice idea. “I dread to think, thank fuck the cleaner’s coming on Monday.”

\-----

It’s not conscious that his encounters with Mitch get less frequent but they’ve both got their own schedules and Carlos or Fernando always seems to be around. 

Less frequent but not non-existent, as Mark kisses down the rail from his belly button, feels Mitch writhe beneath his hands. “Oh god, fuck - please.”

Mark stops. “Please what?”

Mitch glares at him, “Please anything” - his cock twitches against Mark’s lips - “I swear I’ll never walk in on you groping Alonso again.”

It’s the blush across his cheekbones that earns him Mark’s mouth around his dick. Some thoughts are hard to keep to yourself.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
